


The only bed worth sleeping's the one right next to you

by hakubo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blowjobs, Domestic, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild D/s, Multiple Orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 02:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3919141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakubo/pseuds/hakubo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay, that's enough. Bed,” Sam says and it's a testament to just how tense Steve is that he jumps, surprised into looking away from the TV and at Sam, before simply getting up and doing as he's told. “And clothes off.”</p><p>Title from Saint Motel: Cold cold man</p>
            </blockquote>





	The only bed worth sleeping's the one right next to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vassalady](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vassalady/gifts).



> A huge thank you to the lovely mods who set this up and were understanding when I failed at organizing my life and was a bit late.  
> This was so much fun to write and I tried fitting as many of your prompts as I could. Hope you like.

It's still fully dark when Sam wakes up, his head blurry and his bed empty. He groans, fully tempted to just go back to sleep, Steve or no Steve, but he can't. He can feel his own body craving movement, especially the kind that doesn't come attached with being shot at, falling from the sky or catching idiots after jumping from high places. He wants to run without being chased and wants to stare at Steve's ass as he runs past him.

He still allows himself five more minutes of lazing in his own bed instead of a creaky motel bed even though motel beds usually had more Steve.

Sam drags himself out of bed, bruises on his back hurting with each step to the bathroom and he stares wistfully at the shower for a moment. He takes a leak, washes his hands and face, then stares at himself in the mirror. He looks exhausted, his lower lip split and his right eye no longer swollen shut, but still swollen. The longer he looks at himself the more he wants to move so he makes quick work brushing his teeth and leaves the bathroom, changes into running gear and goes to find Steve.

*

Running with Steve is fun in a weird, impossible way considering they barely run together. After running alone for a long time, mostly to keep in shape and keep his mind off things, having company is refreshing and relaxing. And the view doesn't hurt.

Sam runs and focuses on maintaining rhythm, his breathing and the beauty of the flat ground beneath his feet. He can feel the burn in his muscles, the dull throbbing of his bruises, the way his lip threatens to split again and feels himself slowly let go.

They'll be back on the road soon enough, searching for Barnes and dealing with Hydra, so they should probably take advantage of that. Mostly, their bed. And privacy.

*

They don't talk much in the mornings, they've gotten really good at reading each other since they started searching for Barnes. They're quiet on the walk back home, the run shorter than usual because Sam hurts, everywhere. He can see Steve giving him worried looks, biting back whatever it is the he wants to say. Sam smiles to himself, wondering how long Steve's going to last this time before he tries mothering him.

They had this conversation exactly three times; the one where Steve tries to convince him to stay at home where it's safe and Sam tells him no, all of them after Sam got hurt, no matter how bad. Often enough that it stopped being frustrating and became amusing because he knows that Steve worries but doesn't want to do it alone and knows that Sam won't let him do it alone.

When they get in the house Steve closes the door behind him and before Sam can head to the kitchen grabs him, so damn careful and mindful of Sam's bruises it makes Sam smile. Sam presses him back against the front door and goes for a kiss.

Steve is trying to keep it light, mindful of Sam's split lip but Sam's done with careful so he pushes Steve's hand away, grabs him by the hair, pulling his head back just the way he knows Steve likes and deepens the kiss, hard enough to reopen the cut. Steve moans, loud and needy. His hands are tight on Sam's hips, pulling him closer and pressing just at the edge of his bruises and it feels so fucking good.

Sam breaks the kiss and drags his lips over the jut of Steve's jaw, down to his neck, biting and sucking, not even trying to be gentle. Steve's holding himself perfectly still even though Sam can feel him, hot and hard and probably leaking like crazy. Sam bites his shoulder and Steve shudders, panting, eyes tightly closed.

“I wish I could mark you,” Sam says, listening to the hitch in Steve's breathing. “I bet you bruised so prettily before the serum. I wish I could put my hands and my mouth on you and mark you for everyone to see.” The sound that Steve makes, something between a whimper and a whine, makes Sam's dick twitch and he has to close his eyes and focus on getting himself under control. 

Sam fucking loves it when Steve gets like this, hot and bothered, so turned on that he can barely think, let alone worry about anything but how long Sam is going to make him wait before he makes him come.

They stay like that, pressed together and breathing heavily until they manage to get themselves under some semblance of control. Steve kisses him again, slow and careful not to get caught up in it again before pushing him back a bit.

“Go drink something and I'll start the shower,” Steve says and heads for the bathroom.

“Yeah,” Sam says distractedly, eyes on Steve. He doubts he's ever getting tired of watching him.

Sam makes quick work of going to the kitchen and drinking some orange juice. When he gets to the bathroom Steve is already naked and in the shower, soaping himself up and Sam can't resist leaning against the doorway and just looking. They haven't had much time to just relax and enjoy themselves. Battle is a good way to get to know a person, but it doesn't leave much time for the finer details of a relationship.

“Are you going to join me or are you just going to watch?” There's a slight grumpiness in his voice that makes Sam smile. He can bet that Steve would be completely red from embarrassment if he weren't already from the heat of the shower. He's still not used to the fact that Sam likes to watch.

“No one says I can't do both.” Taking his clothes off is a slow process, his body tired and bruises starting to hurt more now that his body is cooling off. Steve makes room for him and Sam groans in relief when the hot water hits his tired muscles. He braces himself against the fall and just lets himself drift for a moment, letting the ache go, ignoring the way Steve's holding himself still behind him, careful not to touch. It's been an insane month. Sam counts own from five in his head and just as he hits zero Steve speaks.

“Sam--”

“We're not having this discussion again.” He keeps his tone gentle, but firm. The silence lasts a few moments and Sam ignores him, enjoys the feel of hot water until he hears the sound of a shampoo bottle opening. The touch following isn't surprising but Sam still jumps a little because Steve's hands are cool against his skin. Steve makes slow work of soaping him up, gentle and thorough, washing out the sweat. He doesn't let him turn around when he's done with Sam's back, makes him stay just as he was, both arms braced against the wall, and squeezes between Sam and the wall. Sam has to laugh when he sees him wince at the cold.

Steve pays just as much attention to his front as the did to his back, if not more and by the time Steve washes his feet Sam's so turned on it's getting hard to breathe, his cock hard and leaking, brushing against Steve's face every once in a while. He doesn't move, doesn't do anything but breathe because Steve needs to do this, use it as an apology for Sam getting hurt.

When he's done washing Sam to his satisfaction Steve stays on his knees, both hands tight on Sam's hips and just breathes on Sam's dick. It's not teasing, not stalling. Steve loves this, loves sucking cock. They've done this so many times so far and it never stops being insanely hot, the way Steve just does what he wants. Sam's more than happy to let him because even though it means waiting he is getting his dick sucked.

Steve finally puts his mouth on him and does it slow, so ridiculously hot that Sam has to bite down on his arm to stop himself from thrusting. Not that he could, with Steve's grip on his hips tightening and going all the way down, almost choking himself on Sam's dick. He stays like that, swallowing around him and holding him still until he absolutely has to move to take a breath. Sam can't resist, has to put his hand on the back of Steve's head, move it so he can touch his throat, can feel him swallow. 

“Fuck. Steve. Your fucking mouth,” he grits out and there it is, the slightly smug smile. He doesn't say anything, just goes goes back down again and again so easily and lightly like Sam's dick is bruised, but it works, it really fucking works and Sam comes the same way Steve sucked him, drawn out and in waves and it goes on forever. Steve keeps his mouth on him even when it starts being too much, but still feels really good and Sam is trying to get his brain working again.

When he looks down his view is blocked by Steve's head and shoulders, but Sam can see his arm moving as he's jerking himself off, his mouth still full of Sam's cock. When he comes Steve moans around his dick and Sam wishes he could get hard again so he can fuck him, pliant and oversensitive.

Sam is still blinking sleepily when Steve finally gets off his knees with a grimace and Sam has to kiss him, taste himself in Steve's mouth and fuck, he really wishes he was less tired.

“Nap,” he asks heading for the bed without waiting for an answer or toweling off. He feels slow and tired and they're home and can afford a damn nap so he's taking a nap.

Steve chuckles behind him. “A nap,” he confirms and follows him to bed, all that glorious warm skin pressed against his back. Nothing beats being the little spoon when sleeping with super soldier.

*

Sam wakes up some time later feeling much better, but still achey to the smell of food, coffee and an empty bed. Again. Steve sucks at sleeping. 

When Sam finally manages to get himself out of bed and dressed he finds Steve in the kitchen frying up some eggs and bacon, all his focus on the task and Sam stares because Steve in his kitchen is something he never expected but isn't going to complain about. He really needs to stop staring so much.

“That's twice in one day I woke up alone. It's a good thing you're making food or I'd be really pissed,” he says moving toward the coffee machine. 

“Sorry, didn't want to interrupt your beauty sleep,” Steve says with a smile, splits the food between two plates and brings everything to the table where Sam is wrapped around his coffee mug. “Do you two need some time alone? I can move to the living room.”

“Hilarious, Rogers. You should do stand up comedy.” The food's good, it always is, Steve a surprising prodigy in the kitchen whenever they actually have access to one considering just how much time they spend on the road.

After eating they move to the living room, lounging on the couch. Steve is the one with the monopoly on the remote control because Sam's really not picky about what's on TV and Steve's interests tend to vary depending on the day and his mood even though history documentaries are never a good idea. Apparently today it's a day for animal documentaries. Sam doesn't mind; there's something ridiculously soothing about watching kittens playing or fish swim in the ocean even though his attention is mostly still on Steve, wondering just how long it's gonna take Steve to start fidgeting.

It's always hilarious, the way Steve is incapable of being still for extended periods of time. Sam doubts he was any different before the serum and even in combat situations he refuses to wait, always choosing frontal assault.

He manages to last through one episode of a documentary about polar bears and half of another about gnus before he starts to really fidget, completely unable to be distracted, enjoy a day off before they go after Hydra again. Sam would probably tease him bout it if he didn't know that it was fueled by Steve's desire to find Barnes. Instead he looks over, stares at him some more, the way Steve's trying to focus on the gnus fighting to cross the river and failing, his fingers tapping an uneven rhythm against his thighs.

“Okay, that's enough. Bed,” Sam says and it's a testament to just how tense Steve is that he jumps, surprised into looking away from the TV and at Sam, before simply getting up and doing as he's told. “And clothes off.” He leaves Steve to it, turns the TV off, goes to the kitchen to grab a couple of bottles of water before following. 

Steve's naked, his clothes carelessly strewn all over the floor and he's standing at the foot of the bed, looking unsure of what to do next. 

“On the bed, hands and knees.” Steve doesn't jump this time, was probably listening to every move Sam made before joining him in the bedroom. Steve is the most beautiful person Sam had ever slept with, made even more beautiful by the fact that he is so deadly and chooses to let Sam do whatever he wants. Chooses Sam each and every time.

Sam stays clothed for the time being; he gets a kick out of that, they both do, but it also makes it easier to resist temptation for a while. 

Sam puts the water on the nightstand then climbs the bed, careful not to touch Steve; it's not that big of a bed. He doesn't have to look to know that Steve's hard, has been for a while now and he's panting already and fuck, he's beautiful like this, all trusting and obedient.

He hears the way Steve holds his for a moment breath when Sam moves just a fraction closer, just enough that he can bend over and lick from perineum and over his hole without any warning and without touching any other part of him. Steve shouts, his entire body bucking at the sensation and now Sam puts his hands on Steve, spreading his cheeks and holding him down. And fuck, there's no rush like this, except for flying, nothing that even closely compares to getting his mouth on Steve, licking lightly, just teasing at his hole while Steve tries to be still and makes the most beautiful noises. 

Sam just keeps licking lightly, sets up a rhythm that he breaks only when he moves lower and licks at the perineum. He keeps it up until Steve's a sobbing mess, constantly moaning, begging without words but Sam still refuses to touch him anywhere else. Sam is painfully hard, rubbing off against the bed, but there's no rush to this, there's nothing but this.

Sam waits for it, for the pleasure to turn into frustration, for Steve to start twitching in a way that means he wants more, wants to reach down and jerk himself off or press Sam's face deeper; it never clear which of the two but doesn't because Sam didn't give him permission. It's only then that Sam relents and gives Steve what he wants, presses his tongue deeper, as far as it goes. There's no finesse, nothing gentle or easy about this, he just fucks him with his tongue until he hears Steve's breathing change, a whine creeping in, his entire body tightening and feels him come around his tongue.

He keeps at it until Steve's shaking with how sensitive he is, moves away only long enough to take off his clothes. Until now his own dick was just a slight distraction, he just wanted to make Steve come. 

He grabs the lube and climbs back on the bed, kneeling between Steve's legs, only this time he moves closer, lets Steve feel him.

“Hey,” he says and runs his hands over Steve's back, feels the tremors in his muscles. He can stay like that for hours, but there's no need for it, it's not what Steve needs today “Lie down.” Steve stretches on his stomach, not even caring about the wet spot, his entire body boneless. Sam wants to lie down on top of him, but that will most likely make him come in a second so he resists and just runs his hands over Steve, soothing, waiting for his breathing to settle.

“Okay?” Steve nods, his face half buried in the pillows and that's not good enough. “Hey, I need more than that. Look at me.” He waits until Steve turns his head and looks a him, eyes half closed and dazed. Sam gets distracted for second staring at his flushed face and his lips, red from where he was biting them. “Okay?”

Steve blinks at him and gives him a small smile, like Sam is being unreasonable for making sure Steve is fine. He's always so careful with everyone but himself. “Okay. Yes.”

Sam slicks himself up, slicks up his fingers and gives him two without hesitation, watches his fingers slide right in where his tongue has been and has to wrap a hand around the base of his dick to stop himself from coming all over Steve's ass. 

Steve's is letting out quiet hitching moans, oversensitive from coming so recently, but so damn eager for more so Sam gives him one more finger. He listens to the sound his fingers make moving in and out of Steve's body, realizes he's talking without realizing while staring at his fingers, the sheen of sweat covering Steve's body.

“So good Steve. So fucking good for me like this. Taking it so beautifully.” His voice is hoarse, like he's been talking for hours, but he knows it because he's still not used to this, to Steve surrendering so beautifully, that he lets Sam manhandle him and gets off on it. 

“Sam. Sam.” Sam has to shake his head like a dog to get his head back in the game, figure out just what it is that he need to be doing. 

“Yeah,” he says and slides his fingers out, stretches out full on top of Steve knowing that Steve can take his full weight and pushes in, all the way in, in one smooth move because Steve can take it, always takes it so beautifully, pushing back against him. 

Sam doesn't hold back, sets a hard rhythm and can feel Steve's hand on his hip, pulling him closer still because this is about getting off, fast and hard, fucking out the restlessness in Steve. He's not going to last long so he pulls back a little.

“Come on Steve, jerk yourself off, make yourself come,” and when Steve gets a hand under himself Sam braces and gives him fast, long strokes. 

He can't do it for long, he's been on the edge for too long to be able to resist and he gives in, fucking Steve in sharp, short thrusts, blindly chasing his own orgasm. He buries himself as deep as he can and comes, barely finds the strength to reach under Steve and tangle their fingers around his cock, manages a couple more thrusts before he has to pull out. 

Steve shudders under him and comes with a pained whimper, body tight before going completely boneless. Sam untangles their fingers, smiling at Steve's mumbling protest and slides to the side so he's not crushing Steve under his dead weight. He gives them a couple of minutes of just breathing before he gets up and heads for the bathroom. He washes up, gets a damp cloth and goes back to the bedroom.

Steve's on his back, blinking sleepily at him, giving Sam a smile when he starts wiping off the sweat and come off him. Sam smiles back, tired once again. When he's done he drops the washcloth to the floor, makes Steve drink some water, then gets back in bed, avoiding the wet spot. He should have gotten a towel to put over it, but he's not going back to the bathroom. He'll just let Steve stay on that side of the bed.

Steve doesn't stay on that side of the bed, chooses instead to manhandle Sam the way he wants him to, which is to be the little spoon and then wrap himself around him. Sam laughs and can feel the answering huff of breath from Steve.

Sam closes his eyes, intending to just rest for a bit because he knows that Steve won't be sleeping, will just drift for a while and there's shit to do while they're in Washington, but he falls asleep between one breath and the next.


End file.
